Kingscote
household were of an exemplary regularity. Mr. Fortescue, who rose early,
expected everybody else to follow his example in this respect, and, as a
rule, everybody did so.

One morning, at the beginning of October, when the sun rose about six
o'clock, and we rose with it, I got up, donned my dressing-gown, and went,
as usual, to take my matutinal bath. In order to reach the bath-room I had
to pass Mr. Fortescue's chamber-door. As I neared it I heard within loud
exclamations of horror and dismay, in a voice which I recognized as the
voice of Ramon. Thinking that something was wrong, that Mr. Fortescue had
perchance been taken suddenly ill, I pushed open the door and entered
without ceremony.

Mr. Fortescue was sitting up in bed, looking with startled gaze at the
window; and Ramon stood in the middle of the room, aghast and dismayed.

And well he might, for there hung at the window a man--or the body of
one--his hands convulsively grasping the magnetized rod, the distorted
face pressed against the glass, the lack-lustre eyes wide open, the jaw
drooping. In that ghastly visage I recognized the features of Giuseppe
Griscelli!

"Is he dead, doctor?" asked Mr. Fortescue.

"He has been dead several hours," I said, as I examined the corpse.

"So much the better; the brood is one less, and perhaps after this they
will let me live in peace. They must see that so far as their attempts
against it are concerned, I bear a charmed life. You have done me a great
service, Doctor Bacon, and I hold myself your debtor."

Ramon and I disconnected the battery and dragged the body into the room.
We found in the pockets a butcher's knife and a revolver, and round the
waist a rope, with which the would-be murderer had doubtless intended to
descend from the window after accomplishing his purpose.

This incident, of course, caused a great sensation both at Kingscote and
in the country-side, and, equally of course, there was an inquest, at
which Mr. Fortescue, Ramon, and myself, were the only witnesses. As Mr.
Fortescue did not want it to be known that he was the victim of a
_vendetta_, and detested the idea of having himself and his affairs
discussed by the press, we were careful not to gainsay the popular belief
that Griscelli was neither more nor less than a dangerous and resolute
burglar, and, as his possession of lethal weapons proved, a potential
murderer. As for the cause of death I said, as I then fully believed
(though I